Late or Early Babblings
by Daydreaming Lover
Summary: Set in Harry's sixth year. One-shot. Harry and Ginny stay up all night. Babbling ensues. Somewhere in between Harry realizes that he's comfortable talking to Ginny. "Babbling isn't as easy as I make it out to be, you know." "You could sure fool me."


**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world. No profit is being made from this. Purely entertainment.**

**This story couldn't have been possible without the help of the amazing Danalas the Lady Chaos. Thank you.**

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><p>Harry sat in one of the coziest sofas in the Gryffindor common room that night. Everyone always sought this particular sofa, and it's usually taken by the older Gryffindors, so the poor younger Gryffindors haven't yet experienced the bliss that is that sofa. However, tonight this sofa was free from the seventh years, and Ron had somehow managed to "convince" the fifth year who was sitting in it to give the seats to him.<p>

"What did you tell him, Ron?" Hermione asked, frowning at the back of the retreating Gryffindor. "No one in the right mind would give up this sofa."

"Relax, Hermione. I've wanted this spot for a week. It's too bloody cold." Ron replied, stretching his long legs in front of the fire.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You _didn't_ by any chance threaten him, did you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He leaned back and closed his eyes. Hermione, who was still suspicious, only glared at him before settling herself more comfortably and resumed her reading. This sofa really _was_ comfortable.

It was one of those rare occasions where the trio wasn't really up to something. Harry sat at one end of the sofa, resting his head in his hand, thinking of god knows what. Ron sat in the middle. And, apparently, the sofa was really comfortable, because he was soon asleep. Hermione sat on the other end reading, and occasionally reprimanding Crookshanks for trying to attack Ginny's pygmy puff, Arnold.

After a couple of chapters, Hermione decided that they got enough rest, and they should really ought to start on their homework. She still hasn't finished next week's Charms essay, after all. And she _still_ needed at least another foot to her Transfiguration homework, even though she passed the required length by three feet.

"How about we do our homework now?" Hermione offered, looking over at her two best friends. Ron was still sleeping, and drooling, by the looks of it.

Harry was trying to summon Arnold the pygmy puff without Ginny noticing. At first, he was slightly successful. The pygmy puff soared toward him, but about five feet from Ginny's chair, dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Harry winced, and was half way out of his chair to check on the poor thing before it rolled quite happily back to its owner. Ginny, who had been talking animatedly with Dean, frowned at the pygmy puff and placed it in her lap. She really ought to be more careful with him. She didn't want him to be stepped over, _again_. The pygmy puff purred happily in Ginny's lap, and Harry swore it gave him a smug look.

"Harry? Ron?" Hermione pressed.

"Fine, Hermione. I'll go get my bag." Harry sighed, and made his way to his dormitory.

"Get Ron's on way, will you."

"Alright, but you're waking him up. I have more bruises than I'd like to count from Quidditch. I don't need anymore." And with that, he disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione frowned; Harry was a great Quidditch player. Granted, she didn't care for that sports much, but seeing as her best friend has been continuously sent to the hospital wing because of it, she paid more attention. But what Harry said confused her. Sure, the occasional hit from the bludger bruised a lot, but Harry was usually good at dodging them. What happened?

More time to think on that later, Hermione thought, now is the time for homework.

"Ron!" She poked him. "Ron, get up. We have to do our homework. Actually, _you_ have to do it. I finished mine yesterday. But still," She shook him "Ron, _wake up_."

He stirred, straightened up, and rubbed his eyes. "Damn it, Hermione. Can't you let a bloke sleep?"

"Sorry, but I don't think you'd appreciate it if I let you go to DADA tomorrow with no homework to hand in." Hermione was satisfied to see that Ron was appalled at the idea.

"Yeah. Yeah, I wouldn't have."

Harry came bounding down the stairs, carrying two bags in tow.

"Ah, great. Thanks, mate. I don't think I have it in me to go all the way up there and _not_ crash and sleep."

"I was tempted." He admitted, smiling.

"Come on." Hermione urged, taking the books out of Ron's bag, for neither boy made any move to actually _do_ their homework.

Ron sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with."

An hour or so after, Harry wearily cast a drying spell on his essay. He didn't care that he didn't make much of an effort; Snape would still give him a bad grade either way. He looked over to his friends, and saw them both still working. He _told_ Ron that vampires were going to be hard, but he didn't listen. He didn't know what Hermione was working on, probably next month's homework, Harry thought wryly.

Harry looked over to where Ginny was seated. She was still holding Arnold in her lap, and she was laughing at something Dean said. Harry frowned. Dean leaned closer to Ginny and whispered something to her that made her laugh even harder and hit Dean. Harry frowned deeper. To think of something else, Harry took out his wand and tried to summon Arnold again. It twitched a bit in Ginny's lap, but she didn't notice.

Harry tried again, this time thinking harder. This time, Arnold rose from her lap, and with reflexes Harry was proud of, she caught it, frowning in confusion. She looked around the common room, and Harry quickly grabbed his quill and wore what he hoped a genuinely concentrated look.

A minute passed, and Harry deemed it safe to resume his mischievous actions. Looking back at Ginny, he was surprised and…angered? He was surprised to see that Ginny had her legs over Dean's and they were talking in low voices. Harry scowled.

He looked back at his friends, only to see Hermione hurriedly look back at her book. There was it again, the smile that told Harry Hermione knew something he didn't. He really was getting too used to that.

"Are you guys finished?"

"Oh, I finished ages ago. I'm reading something for Arthimancy." Hermione replied, somewhat smugly, but her expression twitched, as though she were fighting back a smile. She looked at Harry with laughter in her eyes. He quickly looked at Ron. He had a feeling that whatever Hermione knew, or was trying to know from his face, wasn't something he'd want to share.

"How 'bout you mate?"

"Bugger. You weren't kidding when you said vampires were hard."

"I told you so."

"Don't go all Hermione on me now."

"Hey!" Hermione protested.

"What? It's true, you do that all the time." And when Hermione seemed to be on the brink of another tirade, Ron quickly amended. "That's because you _do_ know a lot of stuff we don't, doesn't she, Harry?" Ron pleaded his friend silently. There was no stopping Hermione if she starts.

Harry thought back to what he was thinking earlier. "Yeah, you do, Hermione."

Hermione didn't look pacified, but Ron suddenly said, "Hermione, would you please help me write this?"

"You mean write it _for_ you."

"No, I didn't mean that. But, hey, if you're offering…"

"I'm not." She snapped, "Ron, that's cheating. I most certainly won't help you cheat."

"But, surely you've written notes in class about vampires. It won't hurt to give them to me."

"It _will_, Ron. You'd be using someone else's work!"

"That doesn't make any sense. We use books all the time!"

"But that's different, Ron! Those are _my notes_."

"Which are better than any book out there!" Ron exclaimed, "So, really. It'd be like taking a book from the library. That's not cheating now, is it? 'Cause if it is, then you'd be the biggest cheater in Hogwarts."

Hermione looked as if she didn't hear what Ron said last. She just gaped at Ron.

"You…you think my notes are as good as the books in the library?" She asked in a hushed voice.

Ron snorted, "I said they're _better_."

Hermione resumed her staring, a small blush collecting in her cheeks. She started rummaging in her bags for the notes. Harry smirked.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"No…no it's alright, Ron." She replied in a breathless voice, as if Ron had said that she was the most beautiful girl on the planet.

Harry's smirk grew wider. _Those two._

Harry looked back again at Ginny. He seemed to do that a lot these days. Whenever she was in the room, he would always find himself looking at her every now and then, or a lot more often than that.

Ginny was smiling. One of the many things Harry came to realize about Ginny is that she had a really nice smile. He also realized how great he felt when _he_ was the one who made her smile. But now, he wasn't. She was smiling because of _Dean_. Now Dean was probably feeling great because he made Ginny Weasley smile. Or he probably wasn't, Harry thought, he probably takes it for granted or got used to it. How could someone could get used to such a brilliant smile, Harry didn't know.

Harry tried summoning Arnold again, but to no avail. _You're too distracted_ said a voice in his head. Harry thought that it sounded a lot like Hermione. _Focus_. Focus, alright, he can do that. He thought back to an earlier night in the common room, where Ron was complaining about how bad he was at nonverbal spells. Hermione, as usual, was great at it and kept saying it was easy, you just have to focus. After a frustrated Ron asked her, _how_, exactly did _she_ focus, she replied.

"Well, I don't know how it is with other people, but when I cast a nonverbal spell, I say it in my brain."

"Huh?" Ron had eloquently replied. "You say it in your _brain_?"

"I know it sounds weird, Ron, but it worked for me. You have to imagine the spell and read it in your brain, with your thinking voice."

"Your _thinking voice_?"

Hermione gave up after that.

Harry tried Hermione's advice. He pictured the words _Accio Arnold_, and imagined himself reading it. He thought he heard what Hermione so aptly called it, his "thinking voice." He pointed his wand discreetly at Arnold, and said the spell as clearly as possible in his mind.

To his great disbelief, Arnold soared through the air, and out of habit, Harry snatched it without thinking. Hermione and Ron looked up as Arnold hummed indignantly.

"Harry! It was _you_ who was summoning Arnold all night." Ginny had made her way to them, and Harry saw Dean's back disappearing up the stairs to the dormitory. Good.

"Harry, did you summon Arnold nonverbally? I didn't hear you cast a spell." Hermione asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I did. That thing with the "thinking voice" helped."

Hermione gave Ron an "I-told-you-so" _hmmph_. He still looked as though anyone who had a "thinking voice" was mad.

"Harry, would you mind unclenching your hand. Arnold is a pygmy puff, not a snitch." Ginny had taken the chair next to him.

Harry looked down, and sure enough, the pygmy puff looked a second away from suffocation.

"Oh," He unclenched his hand. "Sorry about that."

"No worries." She scooped up Arnold from him, brushing his hand in the process and sending a tingle up his arm, "Just next time use Crookshanks for practice. Arnold here is already traumatized from being stepped over again and again." She glared at Ron.

"For the last time, Ginny, I didn't see him!" Ron said defensively, but then took the offense, "What were you doing over there with Dean, anyway? You know I don't like him."

Ginny laughed incredulously at this.

"First of all, you've been friends with him for five years. Second of all, it's none of your business what I do with him. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Hermione, sensing a Weasley argument (something best avoided), interjected.

"He does know that, Ginny." She said with a hard glare at Ron, "So, both of you, please stop it." She looked at Ginny, pleading her not to get riled up by Ron's attitude. There was two _hmmphs_, but they both stopped glaring at each other.

"What are you guys doing?" Ginny asked after a while.

"We just…" Ron started to say, but then scribbled something at the very end of his parchment, "finished homework." He then casted a weary drying spell over his essay, and leaned sighing back as though the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders.

Ginny scowled. "Don't talk to me about homework. With the pile they're giving us, I could swim in it."

"But I don't see _you_ doing any homework tonight." Ron replied with a too innocent voice.

Ginny glared at him. "Unlike _some_ people, I don't leave my work till the last second. I had the evening off, actually."

"So you decided to spend it with your boyfriend," Ron pulled a face, as though the thought of Ginny having a boyfriend disgusted him, which it did, "rather than spend some quality time with your brother?"

Ginny snorted in a very unlady-like manner. Harry smiled unconsciously; one of the many things he liked about Ginny is that she wasn't too girly. Indeed, she was sometimes so rowdy and vivacious that sometimes Mrs Weasley wondered aloud whether or not she _really_ had a daughter. Harry though differently. Anyone who wasn't blind could see that Ginny was _definitely_ a girl. Harry blushed, mortified at his thoughts.

He dragged his mind back to the conversation, only to see that they moved to a different topic – Quidditch.

"I usually won't trip over my own feet to compliment you, Ron, but you're usually good. It's the nerves that get you, that's all. Isn't that right, Harry?" Ginny looked over to a still distracted Harry.

"I… uh, yeah, sure." He cursed himself silently. He hoped he still wasn't blushing.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, concered, leaning over Ron to see him properly. "Is it you're scar?"

Thoughts of Quidditch flew out of Ron's mind, "Did you see something?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Harry asked, puzzled at their behavior.

"You looked really weird for while there, and then you went all red… I thought something happened to you, mate."

"Are you sure it's not your scar, Harry? Because you have to tell Professor Dumbledore immediately if it is." Hermione pressed.

"What, no! It's not my scar, and I didn't have any vision either!" Well, not a vision of _Voldemort_, to be honest. Heat spread to his face again. What was wrong with him?

"Maybe you're coming down with a fever," Ginny suggested, placing her hand on his forehead, which made the snitches in his stomach to get riled up.

"No, you head feels fine, Harry." She peered into his face, frowning slightly. Harry took this moment of close proximity to look in Ginny's eyes. What he saw there made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, which didn't happen often. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes were genuinely concerned about him. Harry absurdly thought that it was worth it to be sick just to have Ginny worry about him.

"But I think you should take a Cooldown Concoction, just to be safe." She finished, sitting back in her chair and leaving Harry feeling slightly disappointed. He enjoyed her close proximity.

"Yeah, you'd better, Harry. Better safe than sorry." Hermione agreed, but there it was again, the "I-know-something-you-don't-know" smile.

"Exactly, and I admit, our chances of winning the cup might be a _bit_ lessened by the fact that our Captain and Seeker might be sick. Just a bit." Ginny taunted, her eyes laughing.

"Yeah, it's going to be a tad more difficult to get the cup without you mate." Ron joined in, but Harry could see real concern behind the joking.

"Har, har. I'm fine, no need to go the hospital wing." He assured them. If only Ron knew…

"Well, if you're not skipping off to the hospital wing, I'm going to bed." Ron yawned, and then said, "I might actually make it to the door this time."

"Oh, no. Not again. If I see you sleeping on the stairs again, I'm leaving you there." Hermione said grimly.

"Kidding! I was kidding…don't you know a joke when you hear one…" He trailed off, heading upstairs.

"He better be." Hermione glared at his back. "I'm going to sleep, too. Coming, Ginny?" Hermione asked, but something about her smile told Harry that Hermione was up to something.

Something in Ginny's face told Harry that Ginny, too, knew that Hermione was up to something, and that she knew what it was.

"No, I don't feel sleepy yet."

"Okay," Hermione replied, and Harry thought he heard the smile rather than saw it, "Goodnight."

After Hermione's feet disappeared from view, Ginny asked Harry

"You're not going to bed?"

"I don't feel sleepy yet." Echoing her words with a smile. Ginny mirrored his smile, and once again Harry felt great.

"Mind if I sit here?" She indicated the sofa Harry was sitting on. "That seat is practically from heaven, and it's _freezing_."

"Yeah, sure." Harry hoped he didn't sound as excited as he felt. Ginny plopped herself next to him, and sank into the seat with a content sigh. Harry caught that addicting scent of flowers that he smelt in the Amortentia. He tried not to inhale too deeply.

"I can see why people always want this spot. It's just perfect." Ginny mused, taking off her shoes with her feet. "And the heat from the fire is just right, not too close or far." She continued, peeling of her socks now.

"It's just a seat, Ginny." Harry laughed. She glared at him.

"Oh, you can laugh all you want, Potter. _You_ didn't do anything today."

"It's the weekend!"

"Exactly! Whereas I woke up at earlier than I do at home, with Ron's snores and that blasted ghoul's groaning, just to go to the library. And I sat there _till lunch_, hunched over books. Who does that, I tell you!"

"Her–"

"– Other than Hermione." She compensated. "And, what do I see when I sit down for lunch? They're out of pumpkin juice. So I had to go all the way to the Ravenclaw table to get me some when that awful Smith said something about the next Quidditch match and Ron. Smart trick, he played. I couldn't hex him in front of the teachers, but I did get my revenge. You'd be please to know that Fred and George's latest product does work, after all." She looked at him, nodding, as though he frequently wanted updates of Fred and George's inventory from her. Harry sat there amused, not really knowing what was going on, but liking it.

"Shame," She continued, "I was really hoping it wouldn't. Who knows what might've happened then. Anyway, continuing my day of misery. After lunch, I headed back to the library, and had to shut up at least 6 people. And, for some reason, couples think that the library is the absolute _best_ place for snogging. You try studying the Goblin revolutions of '76 with a particularly lovey-dovey couple in the row behind you. By Merlin, the noises! So, I went there to kindly tell them to take their, ah, _activities_ someplace else. I was going to recommend a good broom cupboard, but when I actually saw them…" The look on Ginny's face was enough. Harry idly wondered where that good broom cupboard was, you know, for future uses. Wait, what? _Future uses_? What _was_ wrong with him?

Ginny cleared her throat. "Never again. So, I had to find a nice, quiet classroom to study in, because the common room is so noisy. I find one, and just before dinner, Peeves decides to come by and say hello."

"That must not have ended well."

"Well, that essay I've been working on for a week is ruined. And I was really close to cracking. Not a pretty sight, just ask my brothers. But, then I decided I don't care."

"You don't care?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't. At least, not for today. I deserved a break, and I took one. Otherwise, I'll go crazy." Harry nodded, understanding. The stress of the OWLS was really tremendous.

"Did anybody in your class have a fit?"

Ginny snorted again. "More like who _didn't_. Poor Celesia is still in the hospital wing. And there was a Slytherin who was caught taking overdoses of the Wakefulness potion. He's been passed out since last Monday." Then she seemed to remember something. "And _that_ is why I love the seat, Potter." She finished with a smile.

The minutes passed by, the pair not really saying anything, just enjoying each other's company. Harry was pleasantly surprised to notice that it wasn't the awkward silence Harry usually associated with having nothing to say. So, he just sat there, enjoying the warm from the fireplace, and that lingering smell of flowers.

A shrill _hmmmm _penetrated the air. Harry immediately grabbed him wand and was on his feet, looking for the source.

"Did you hear that?" He asked Ginny in a hushed voice.

Ginny laughed, which just confused Harry. He definitely heard something.

"Don't get your wand in a knot, Harry." She bent down and reached for something under the opposite chair. Harry was distracted for a second by the glorious sight of Ginny's b–

"Relax, it's just Arnold." She stood up, holding the pygmy puff in her palms. She looked at Harry, and a frown immediately took place between her brows. "You're sure you're fine, Harry? You're all red again."

"Uh...I…what?" He shook his head, trying to clear the image that had somehow burned itself into Harry's mind. This was not helping the blush to go away at all. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just thought for a second that there's something slightly more sinister than a pygmy puff."

"Slightly?" She asked, the corners of her mouth curved upwards. She gestured for Harry to sit back down, and sat next to him. _Really_ next to him. Their thighs were touching. This didn't help Harry clear his head at all, but what's so good about a clear head, anyway?

"Slightly." Harry confirmed with a straight face. Ginny broke into a laugh. It was then that Harry realized that while making Ginny smile was great, making her laugh was amazing.

"Do you always point your wand when you hear something?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"Sorry, force of habit." Harry replied jokingly. It was only after he said it that he realized it wasn't that funny.

"Yeah, no one can blame you, after what happened…" She trailed off uncertainly. The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but tense, as if both were tiptoeing around a really angry blast-ended skrewt.

"You're not the only one, you know." Ginny said after a moment. "More alert, that is." She then continued in a hushed voice, as though wanting only Harry to hear what was she going to say. But it was useless, there was nobody left in the common room but them. "I still get nightmares, where I'm back in the Ministry. Nightmares of what happened to Ron, and Hermione's body when she passed out, and Neville, and Luna, and you," She looked at him, as if making sure he was still there, not back at the Ministry, "And Si–" She paused, and looked as if she made her mind about something, "and, sometimes, I swear I can still hear that evil Bellatrix laughing." She shuddered.

She turned to Harry, so that she was looking at him full in the face, one leg on the seat, one dangling to the floor, and a humming Arnold in her hand.

"And, it's not just you and I, Harry. Ron. Ron, he pretends that it didn't effect him, but I know for a fact that he comes by every night to check on me." Harry thought she looked very small admitting this, like she was still 11 and needed her older brother.

"And Mum. You should've seen her, Harry. She triple checks everything before going to sleep. And then Dad makes a round after her when she doesn't know. Everyone _acts_ like they're not worried, but in truth, we all are."

Harry didn't know why she was telling him this. Was it for his sake, or hers? Or maybe for both?

"And Hermione." She smiled, "Of course she'd resort to books. She was reading up a storm in the summer. More than usual, and different books, too. Defensive and healings spells, mostly. She must've been itching to get to Hogwarts to practice them. And Neville has been asking about the D.A insistently. And Luna offered me a whole vial of bat droppings, saying something about repellence abilities. The smell was enough to repel a whole class, I can tell you that."

"I don't why I'm saying this, but I thought you should know it." She finished, and shifted to her back was to the other armchair, and her feet were brushing Harry's leg.

"No, thank you. For telling me this." Harry felt like he needed to say something, "I don't how it helped…"

"But it _does_, right?"

Harry nodded, "How do you know?"

"It helped me after my first year. Bill used to tell me a lot of things. It didn't have to be related to…to what happened, just things he saw and did and knew." She nodded, "It helped a lot."

Harry wanted to ask her something, but he feared that the question might be too personal. Finally, he couldn't handle it any longer.

"Ginny, do you still… have nightmares about what happened?"

Ginny looked as if she already knew he would ask that question, "Yeah, sometimes."

"Do you… do they come when you think about it, or just at random?"

Because that's what Harry felt. His nightmares attacked him unaware, most of the time. And there were the nights where he'd just _know_ he's going to have a nightmare, and try to put off sleep as much as possible, such as today.

Ginny stayed quiet for a while, and Harry realized with a bad feeling that the questions _were_ too personal.

"I'm sorry…I don't know why I asked, it's personal. It's none of my business. I'm really sorry." He rambled, wanting to properly apologize.

"No, no. Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I was just thinking about it. I'd guess I'd say both. Because nightmares are horrible like that. Days could pass and I won't give the matter a thought, and then, one night, bam, it attacks. And they'll be other days, were I can't seem to think of anything _but_ that, and I don't want to go to sleep. Do you feel like that sometimes?"

"Yeah, exactly the same."

"Er, Harry? Please tell me if I'm blabbing too much. I tend to do that sometimes." She admitted with a sheepish grin.

"I like your blabbing." He smiled.

They were quiet for a while, and Harry was amazed about how _easy_ it was talking to Ginny. He remembered panicking, and fishing around for something to say to Cho when they were together. He was glad that Ginny was not the same. He was also surprised to find out that he could, no, wanted, to tell Ginny things he didn't want anyone else to know. There were some things that he just couldn't chat over with Ron and Hermione. But somehow Ginny was different.

"How do you get over it? The dreams, I mean." Harry asked her after a while.

Ginny, who was dangling her head over the armchair, lifted it to face Harry. Her head was red from all the blood rushing to her face, upside down. Harry remembered when she used to blush around him.

"Well, there's some lucky nights where I'm just too sleepy to care, so I just go back to sleep. The other nights aren't so good. Some nights I can't go back to sleep at all, or if I do, it's the same nightmare again. But, how do get over it? Hmmm. Thinking about something else worked for me sometimes. I remember when we were in Egypt, and Bill used to show me those ancient mummies when I woke up at night."

She laughed, "I don't what he was thinking, but that just gave me _more_ nightmares. Mum had a heart attack when she found out. But it _did_ help, in a weird way." Her lips curved into a small smile, "All I had to do is to think about Bill's face." She laughed again, but then her expression turned serious again, and she looked into the fire.

"But that was when I was 11. They say time heals everything, but it doesn't always does that. Sometimes it makes is _worse_. As I grew up, I started to notice more things, things my younger self over looked. You start to see things you didn't before."

"And this is where solution number 2 comes in, Harry. You have to acknowledge what's making you have nightmares, and try to overcome that." She scowled, "That didn't work for me, but who knows? It could work for someone else. No, the best thing that worked for me is talking about it to someone."

She saw the look on Harry's face, and continued, "I know it doesn't sound very appealing, Merlin knows I didn't want to talk about it. Experiencing it _once_ was enough, but when Sirius–"

She stopped talking abruptly, her brows furrowed in confusion, as if her brain finally caught on to what her mouth was saying. _What in Merlin's name are you thinking_, she chided herself, _clearly, I'm not_. She looked at Harry, worried.

Harry, who had immediately frozen up inside when he heard his Godfather's name, noticed Ginny's reaction. He felt guilty for making her apprehensive. For some reason, he didn't feel the sense of panic he usually did whenever Ron or Hermione brought up Sirius. Ginny's brown eyes sought his. Harry wasn't the type to seek full on eye contact when troubled, but for some reason, his eyes answered the call.

What he felt right then when he looked into Ginny's eyes was indescribable. He felt as though she could see into his _soul_, like he couldn't hide anything from those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. It sounds ridiculous, but Harry felt as though his eyes were telling Ginny things his mouth never did. Ginny's brown eyes seemed to listen, and then she nodded, as though bracing herself for something.

"Harry, I… I know that Ron and Hermione tiptoe around you about… Sirius." She looked at him in the eyes, "But I won't. I know they're scared of your reaction–"

"–What? Why would they be scared?"

"Harry, no offense, but have you _seen_ yourself last year? Or _heard_?" Harry grimaced with regret. He really didn't mean to say, or yell, all that stuff he did last year.

"I know. I'm sorry–"

"–No, it's alright." She waved off his apology with her hand. "Anyway, I know they're scared of your reaction. But, Harry, do you really think Sirius would like you to avoid remembering him? I know remembering him sometimes may be painful, but it's better than forgetting him, don't you think?"

When Harry said nothing, she continued, "So, back to the nightmares. And talking about them. It was after Dad had been attacked, I had a particular nasty one. It was like re-watching every bad moment since I was eleven. So, I went to the kitchen for some warm milk. Mum always said warm milk solves everything. And guess what I see? _Sirius_ was drinking warm milk. I remember teasing him," She smiled wistfully, "I said that a bloke like him should be drinking butterbeer or firewhisky, something like that. He said that warm milk was just as potent." She smiled at Harry.

"He asked me why was I up so late, or was it so early? Same thing, really. Anyway, I told him I had a nightmare. He nodded, and then just waited. After a while, I asked him what was he waiting for. 'Aren't you going to talk about it?' he asked me. I said that I don't like to talk about it. He told me to try it. I did. It was just as bad as I expected. But what I didn't expect was how I felt afterwards."

She looked at Harry, "Harry, do you know the saying that happiness can be multiplied and sadness can only be divided. I don't usually think about fancy quotes like that, but it's _true_. Talking to someone who knows and understands what you feel is better than any Euphoria Elixir there is."

"So, that, Harry, is how I get over my nightmares." She concluded, and then she smiled sheepishly, "A lot more than you bargained for, is it? I told you, you could shut me up anytime."

"I didn't want to. Ginny…thanks. For staying here, and telling me all this. Really, it means a lot." He hoped his smile would express his genuine gratitude.

"Anytime, Harry. But, I've been the only one talking for about an hour. Babbling isn't as easy as I make it out to be, you know." She mock frowned at him, and poked him with her foot.

"You could sure fool me." He poked her back.

"Oh no, Potter. You _don't_ want to start a poking war with me. Ask Ron. So, it's _your_ turn now."

"My turn?"

"Yes, your turn. To blab."

"I don't know, Ginny. I've never blabbed before, what if I messed up?" He asked with fake concern. Ginny laughed.

"Don't worry, you have me to guide you. Now blab."

"How?"

"Say whatever is on your mind right now, and start from there."

"Whatever is on my mind…" Harry mused. _Should_ he blab? He never did that before. And if he did, should he blab to _Ginny_? What if he says something about how he thinks her hair is multi-colored, ranging from the deepest red to the brightest gold. Or that her smile was enough to cause snitches to flutter about in his stomach? Or that she was really pretty in the firelight, her hair glinting a million different colors. No, he'd have to be careful. He caught his reflection in the opposing window.

"People always say that I look just like my father." He looked at Ginny. She nodded encouragingly, smiling. "And, I've seen him." Looking at Ginny's confused expression, he explained, "In a memory. Using a pensieve. We're practically copies, just our eyes are different."

"But the thing is…" He looked uncomfortably at Ginny. Somehow, voicing what he thought made it more real, "The thing is that I'm not sure I want to look like him." He looked at Ginny, pleading her to understand. Her expression asked an unvoiced 'why?'

"I saw him in a memory, right? Well, it was Snape's. It was back when they were still at school. Snape hates my dad, and I first I thought it was unfounded, but then…" He cleared his throat, "Basically, I saw that my father was just as arrogant as Snape made him out to be." He confessed, looking at Ginny. "He kept bullying Snape, and lots of other people, too, by the looks of it, and my mum… Ginny, my mum _hated_ him. She called him a 'bullying toe rag'. She said she'd rather go out with the giant squid than him."

To his surprise and confusion, Ginny snorted. Then she caught the look on Harry's face and hastened to explain. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's difficult for you to admit this, and I'm really glad you're telling _me_ this. But, I know this, Harry. Sirius told me."

"He told you?" Harry frowned, "When?"

"That night wasn't the only night I found Sirius in the kitchen. We used to talk for hours. He also told me how you were worried about this."

"Still, it doesn't make it funny…" He grumbled.

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. It's just that your mum's choice of words had the better of me."

"But she _meant_ them. How did they even get married if she hated him so much?" When Harry finally voiced what has been eating him inside for so long, he felt as though he might've done something very bad, or very good.

Ginny knew from the troubled look on Harry's face that this has been an issue he's been struggling with for a very long time. She sat up and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, listen to me." Which Harry found quite difficult with her hand on his shoulder, sending tingles up and down his spine. "Haven't you ever done a thing you're not proud of? Something you want to forget? You have, don't you? Everyone does. Everyone has something in their past that they're not proud of. And the fact that we're not proud of it…while it doesn't make up for what we did, it sure makes us better people, don't you think?"

"Harry, you just happened to see your dad in that phase. Sirius told me that your dad changed. He stopped hexing Snape unless he really deserved it. He became a ' little less bigheaded.' Your mum caused that. Harry, your dad changed for the better _because of_ and _for_ your mum. It doesn't get any better than that." She sat back against the armchair, wearing a satisfied expression on her face.

Harry wondered how many times he'd have to thank Ginny tonight. He turned to face her.

"Thanks, Ginny. I don't know how you do it, but… thanks."

"And my brothers say my mouth is a curse. Hmmph. But, hey," She wagged her finger at Harry, " just because I babbled between your babbling doesn't mean you should stop babbling! You've only just begun."

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Alright. Let me think of something…"

"What else did Sirius tell you about me?" He asked after a while.

She poked him again, her eyes laughing. "Getting a little full of ourselves, aren't we? I'm delighted to say that your name hasn't cropped up in our conversations much."

"Should I be relieved?"

"I'm not sure."

"Alright, then. What else did Sirius tell you about something _other_ than me." Ginny laughed.

"He told me stories about their school days. The things they got up to, Harry! See that chair?" She pointed to a chair that had one leg a bit shorter than the other, so anyone sitting on it would wobble incessantly. "That was when Wormtail was hiding after he accidentally broke Sirius's broom. He kept on gnawing on the leg in fear. The chair was never the same since." She shook her head sadly.

Harry looked at her, mutely asking her for more.

"I don't know, Harry. All the stuff is mixed together. I remember when they locked Filch in his office, the dungbombs in the Slytherin common room after they cheated in Quidditch, and that name, Elvendork–"

"–_Elvendork_?"

"It's unisex! Anyway, I don't remember clearly. I could _really_ use a pensieve now…"

"Oh!" She snapped her fingers. Harry leaned forward in anticipation. "I remember something. It was when you dad was trying to ask your mum out, Harry. They were in the Great Hall for breakfast, and according to Sirius, 'not a day goes by where Prongs hasn't asked Lily out at least seven times before first lesson.' I think he wanted to summon some flowers, _lilies_, I think. Your mum never appreciated the joke, so she whipped her wand out and burned them. Not much of an entertaining story, but Sirius said if I looked hard enough, I would see a flower shaped burn in the Gryffindor table." She looked at Harry breathlessly. "I found it, Harry! Earlier this year. Remind me to show you tomorrow."

She frowned. "Hey! You tricked me into blabbing again." She narrowed her eyes at him, "You play dirty, Potter." She smiled mischievously, " I like it."

Clearing his suddenly dry throat, Harry continued.

"But I like your blabbing. It's amusing."

"By all means, try telling that to my brothers."

"I still have one question, though."

"Shoot."  
>"You said before that it helps if you talk to someone who knows and understands what you've been through."<p>

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you talk with me about what happened in the chamber?" He asked, puzzled. By her logic, he was the best person to talk to at the time. Ginny looked mildly uncomfortable, but then smiled and said, "Well, I wasn't in any shape to talk to you, wasn't I?" She poked him again.

"What? Oh, yeah." He remembered.

"My elbow was never dry again, you know. After that incident." She met his eyes, and they both broke out laughing.

Finally, Ginny wiped tears from her eyes, "By Merlin, that was so _embarrassing_. You noticed, didn't you?" He nodded, "At least you're not like my brothers, if they saw that..," She shuddered, "The won't let me live in peace."

"You used to blush a lot, too." Harry fondly remembered.

"Yeah, that typically happens when one is _embarrassed_, Harry."

"Like the time you got me the singing valentine card?"

Ginny sat up so fast; she might've been drenched in cold water. She looked mortified, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see the she was _blushing_.

"You remember that?" She asked in a hushed voice, her eyes wide and staring.

"Of course I do." He put on a singsong voice, "_His eyes are as green as a fresh_–"

Ginny squeaked, shot at Harry, and clamped her hands over his mouth. The smell of flowers washed over him again. Ginny was on her knees on the sofa, looking around, as though expecting find someone eavesdropping. Then she looked back at Harry with disbelieving eyes.

"You _remember_ it?" Harry nodded, enjoying this all too much. "How?" She took her hand off his mouth, and passed it through her hair absentmindedly. She was blushing even harder.

"You're blushing!" Harry gleefully pointed out. Ginny's hands went to her face, feeling the warmness there. She glared at Harry.

"You didn't answer me, Potter. How do you _still_ remember that card?" She looked as though every syllable was causing her pain.

"I still have it." The effect was way better than Harry anticipated. Ginny spluttered for a couple of seconds, speechless, then jumped to her feet.

"You're lying." She said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You don't have that. How could you still have that? It's been _years_!"

"Nope, it's still up there, in my trunk. Do you want to me to go get it?" He stood up and was about to make his way to his dormitory, when Ginny hurriedly stepped in front of him, arms wide. Harry didn't know how she expected to block Harry if he really wanted to go upstairs. She's a head shorter than he is.

"Okay, okay! I believe you. Let's not get rash, now." She sounded as though she was calming _herself_ down. She sat back down. "Sit."

Harry did. Ginny continued to look at him as though debating whether or not to hex him.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you _still_ have the bloody card?"

"I don't know. It seemed wrong to throw it. Besides, I like hearing how my eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad. And how my hair's as dark as a blackboard. It boosts my self esteem." Harry really _was_ having too much fun with this. With every word he said, Ginny blushed harder. Harry wondered if she knew how pretty she was when she blushed.

She muttered some things under her breath. Probably something that would've caused Mrs Weasley a heart attack.

"Don't test me."

"You're _still_ blushing."

"Don't get used to it, Potter. I have a half mind to _obliviate_ you right this second."

"You wouldn't."

"Trust me, if I were good at them, I wouldn't have hesitated. But I don't think people will appreciate it if the Chosen One doesn't even know who he is." Harry scowled at the nickname.

Ginny gasped suddenly, "You didn't _show_ it to anybody, did you?"

"Yes, I did actually. Ron has a copy and Hermione knows the poem off by heart." After looking at the murderous look on her face, however, he quickly said, "I'm joking! No one saw or heard it but me."

Ginny sighed, relieved. She sagged back into the sofa.

"You better be." Harry laughed again, and she glared at him, which only made him laugh more. Making Ginny Weasley blush was as great as making her laugh.

Ginny watched Harry as he laughed at her expense. She supposed she should feel irritated, but it was hard to do so when Harry was laughing so care-freely. She smiled the back of his head. She still was embarrassed, of course. Who in the right mind would keep a singing valentine card all those years? And she blushed in front of Harry, something she promised herself she wouldn't. But, then again, it didn't have to be a bad thing.

When Harry finally calmed down, he looked up to see Ginny smiling at him. So she hadn't taken his fit of laughter personally, great. Harry worried she was. He sighed, and leaned back against the chair.

"But now you _can_ talk to me…about that. I'll be here if you wanted to blab again."

"Same here." She patted his hand.

Harry was surprised when the first ray of sunlight hit them. Harry noticed, as he always did these days, that Ginny's hair looked golden in the sunlight. But then he was rudely jerked back to non-Ginny related thoughts.

"It's very late!" He exclaimed.

Ginny frowned at him, "Very early, you mean?"

"Same thing." They both replied. A smile broke into both of their faces.

Ginny stood up. So did Harry. For some reason, even though he felt sleepy at times throughout their conversation, he didn't want to go to sleep just yet. He'd be happy to sit with Ginny and talk till breakfast. Ginny yawned.

"Weird, I didn't realize I was sleepy. Well, nice blabbing to you, Harry. Goodnight. Or morning." She smiled, "Same thing." And with that, she scooped up Arnold from the table, and left to her dormitory.

Harry stood there, wondering how and what happened today, or last night…same thing. His feet took him to his bed without a conscious order from his brain, seeing as his brain was filled with thoughts of flowers, red and gold, and smiles.

When Harry woke up the next day, or later that day, he was pleasantly surprised that, in contradiction to his feelings earlier that night, he didn't have nightmares at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Constructive criticism is always appreciated!<strong>


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